


Lanterns

by spinsters_grave



Series: Once Upon A Paladin [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fairies, Gen, Legends, Once Upon A Paladin event, a poem at the end, i also wrote it in like an hour so if there are any mistakes please PLEASE let me know, this is really sweet i think, young!Allura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 12:56:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinsters_grave/pseuds/spinsters_grave
Summary: The trees looked especially beautiful in the winter twilight. Magic is real, magic is real, magic is real.





	Lanterns

The trees looked especially beautiful in the winter twilight. They only just began to glow then, and Allura could believe that she didn’t exist, and it was only the magic that was real. 

 

“You have the best seat in the house, my dear,” said her father the King, not without some dryness. Allura liked it when his voice was like this the most. He sounded young. 

 

“Come back from the railing, darling,” said her mother the Queen, gently pulling Allura back with warm hands. “Come sit on Mummy’s lap.”

 

“I want to go down,” Allura said, pointing down at the forest. She looked up at her mother; sometimes that helped her get her way.

 

Alladosia looked at Alfor, who shrugged. “I mean, the railing will protect her. She won’t fall.”

 

Allura almost told him that that wasn’t what she had in mind, but kept her silence. It didn’t matter, anyway—she would go down eventually, and walk around the lantern trees. They had a more scientific name, but it was nothing Allura could remember. 

 

Alladosia sighed her signature long-suffering sigh and let Allura down. She went back to the railing, so small that she didn’t need to kneel down to clutch and peer through the bars. She wished she was taller, or older, so she could look without hindrance. (She knew it was a poorer view from up there, but she wished anyway.)

 

The first tree to light was incredibly close—so close that Allura could have touched it, if she had just a little more arm length. It was pink, and had what Allura thought were snowflakes under its thick leaves. She couldn’t help a wondrous little gasp from escaping. 

 

The tree to the right of the pink tree lit up an icy cold blue. Allura shivered and drew her small cloak tighter around her arms. The snowflakes, but they weren’t snowflakes, multiplied. 

 

Green, then red, some yellows and purples sprinkled in here and there. Turquoise—Allura had memorized longer color names for this night—mauve, chartreuse (this one gave her some trouble even in her mind), maroon, and the tallest one was gold. 

 

Somewhere in the middle of the colors, Alfor and Alladosia had knelt by their daughter, placing their warm, broad hands on her back. Allura held the bars of the railing as if she were holding on for dear life. Her eyes hurt when she blinked, since she kept them open so long. 

 

One of the snowflakes—a purple one—drifted up to the balcony Allura hid behind. She watched it hover in the air in front of her eyes, its head tilting back and forth as it observed the royal child. Allura blinked, and the snowflake blinked as well. 

 

The snowflake did not try to touch Allura before zipping back away to its tree. Allura tried to follow it, but quickly lost the tiny thing in the trees. No worries. There were other snowflakes, far too many to see in one night, however long it would be. (For Allura, and how young she was, it would be a short night indeed, she knew.)

 

A breeze rustled through the trees, shaking their thick, large leaves (they would be sycamores on a different planet); thousands of snowflakes laughed their bright bell laughs. The world was moving at a million miles an hour, and Allura felt as grounded as the million-year-old lantern trees she stared at. 

 

The tallest tree was gold. It was the oldest, so the legends said. Allura had read the old dusty book in the library the other day in preparation. It was filled with words she did not know, but that was okay, because she had a dictionary too. She wasn’t allowed to mark up the book (she did anyway, in graphite lead that would separate and drift off of the pages in a couple hundred years or so). 

 

The legend said that a woman had been cursed by a fairy—or perhaps it was a blessing from a witch—to wander the land until her ever-lasting lantern was snuffed out. For a day, the woman despaired and planned to make her good-byes to her husband and children. Already, the urge to walk and keep walking itched in her feet. 

 

She lay to sleep in her house for what she dreamed was the last time. She held her husband tightly through the night, but could not drift off; the light of the lantern in the other room shone under the door jam and cut into her eyes. 

 

Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. She got up, careful not to wake her husband or her children in the other room, and grabbed the lantern to guide her way out in the dark. 

 

She wandered for a while, with feet clad in nothing but her calloused skin, until she came upon a tree in a forest. It was young, barely a sapling, and all the trees around it were slated to be cut down. 

 

The woman knelt on the cold dirt. With nothing but her fingernails, she began to dig.

 

(The legend says she dug for twelve days and twelve nights, but Allura found that part hard to believe. She couldn’t be digging in the garden for twelve  _ seconds _ before someone grabbed her up and brought her back inside to her room.)

 

The lantern burned all the while the woman dug. As the hole widened and dirt piled up around her, it burned, all the way until she was finished. 

 

The woman rose to her feet. Her hands and knees were shaky and sore, and she was hungry, but she was not finished. Inside her lantern was the ever-lasting candle—the breath of the east, west, south, and north winds combined could not blow out that candle. A thousand pinching fingers could not snuff that candle out. An hour of holding a metal hat over the candle would not make the flame any less bright. 

 

It was close to dripping all the way down, but it had been that way when the woman got the lantern many years ago, so she did not imagine it would matter. Inside the small indent of the candle, wet wax sloshed; she was careful not to let it land on her wrist as she took the candle from the glass lantern. 

 

She did not take time to study the candle. It was just a candle, albeit a magical candle. There were others. She still had the lantern-box, and that was what was important. 

 

The woman placed her candle in the deep, dark hole of dirt. A drop of wax dripped from the candle to the ground, where it quickly sealed up clumps of dirt. The woman sighed, but she had made up her mind. She would choose her family over her candle any day. 

 

With one mighty push and a grunt, the woman shoved the piles of dirt into the hold she had made. The dirt spilled back into the hole after that one push, without the woman having to touch a single speck, until nothing stood in the forest but the trees, the woman, and the sapling. 

 

The woman felt the moment the spell was broken. Her bare feet no longer itched magically, though the dirt encrusting her soles were annoying. She sighed in relief, and bent to touch the sapling and its leaves in thanks. 

 

As she ran her fingers over one green leaf, its underside lit up. The woman gasped and drew back, though she knew somehow the light could not hurt her. Gradually, she ran her fingers over the leaves again. It sounded like bells. 

 

From under the curl of a leaf came a ball of light. It did not suddenly appear, but peered around the curl as if it had always been there, and had only waited for the woman’s touch. The woman paused her ministrations, and cupped her hand for the ball to land in. It was warm to the touch, but not hot, and the woman knew that it was the spirit of her ever-lasting lantern—the candle had been snuffed in rich Altean soil, but the spirit of the magic lived on. 

 

The ball of light shaped itself into a small fairy. Unlike the fairy that had cursed the woman, this fairy was benevolent and golden, and would help any Altean that required her assistance. 

 

With the curse broken, the woman went back to her family, and one day passed away. The forest around the young sapling was cut away to be made into firewood, but the sapling itself grew and grew, with glowing leaves. The fairy of the tree multiplied and spread, and though no other tree in the lantern forest would have the same golden color, they still had the spirit of the ever-lasting lantern, and would help any Altean that required them. 

 

Alfor stood, Alladosia following his lead. They waited for Allura, but she stared at the lantern trees. Alfor sighed and picked up his daughter. She smiled into his shoulder and reached around as far as she could to hold onto him. Alladosia laughed softly. 

 

They let her down to walk around the trees, though never let her out their sight. The Alteans that had gathered to ask favors of the snowflake tree-fairies parted to let the royal family through; Allura placed her hand on the trunk of one tree that glowed blue, and a fairy bumped her nose to smile at her. 

 

Allura smiled back. 

 

“Go along, child,” the fairy said, in a voice that sounded like bright blue bells. 

 

Alladosia hoisted Allura up; it was her turn to hold her daughter. Allura played with her mother’s puffy white hair with her sweaty hands; one day, she knew, her hair would be the same. 

 

“We’re here,” Alladosia whispered to Allura, and set her down on the ground. Allura let go of the cloud hair and turned to face the tallest tree. 

 

The lantern tree’s golden fairy looked nothing like the small balls of light of the other trees. She looked entirely Altean—she even had the markings around her eyes, and the dark hair of the woman in the legend. The book had been illustrated—her tutor would call it “illuminated”, but that word was reserved for trees, in Allura’s opinion. 

 

“Your daughter has grown since the last I saw you,” the golden fairy said. Her voice was also like bells, but deep bells, the bass of the church. “She is beautiful.”

 

Allura half hid behind her mother’s skirts. Alladosia smiled down at her and placed one warm hand on Allura’s back to bring her out into the fairy’s gaze. 

 

The fairy knelt down to be at Allura’s level. The movement scattered golden balls of light into the air; they disappeared as quickly as they came. Allura bowed hastily. 

 

“No need for that, child,” the fairy said, brushing a light knuckle against Allura’s cheek. She was warm, but she did not burn. “I should be bowing to you, you royal being.”

 

Allura cast her eyes to the ground. Her feet were bare, as tradition called; some dark dirt clung to the balls of her feet and between her toes. 

 

“Is there anything you desire?” the fairy asked. She was clad in a golden dress that bloomed from her waist outwards; it was embroidered in rich brocade and lace. “If you ask me of anything, I will grant it.”

 

“Can you really do that?” Allura asked in return, finding a sudden wellspring of courage. “Can you do  _ anything? _ Could you bring back the dinosaurs?”

 

“I could,” the fairy said, with a faint smile. “But if I did, you would be  _ eaten!” _ She snarled playfully and snapped her fingers at Allura’s side. Allura gave a small shout of delight and twisted away from the fairy’s fingers. They shared a laugh. 

 

“Could you give food to everyone? Even the poor people?” Allura asked. 

 

“I could, but then no one would work for what they get, and the beautiful dirt here would become dry and pitiful,” the fairy said, with a voice sounding sad. “Hard work reaps rewards.”

 

“What does ‘reap’ mean?”

 

The fairy thought for a second. “It means to get things you knew you would get from the work you do,” she said. 

 

“So if I were to get a stepladder and climb onto the counter, I could reap cookies?”

 

The fairy laughed. “Yes, though I’m afraid you would also reap your mother being angry at you.”

 

“Oh, she wouldn’t know,” Allura said. “I think I know what I want.”

 

The fairy smiled. “Please. Your wish is my command, my lady.”

 

Allura looked up at the fairy. “Can you tell me what happened to the woman who buried you?” Without thinking, she took a piece of the fairy’s golden dress and rubbed it between her fingers. 

 

The fairy smiled broader, if that was possible. It felt as real as the dirt under Allura’s feet and the snowflake fairies in the winter’s warmest night. 

 

“You must promise not to tell anyone,” the fairy said. Allura nodded quickly in agreement. 

 

The fairy tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned in to whisper in Allura’s ear. Her breath was warm as it ghosted across Allura’s earlobe. 

 

She drew back, and Allura nodded in agreement. 

 

“Happy birthday, dear royal child,” the fairy said.

 

END

 

Tonight I’ve watched

The moon and then

The Pleiades

Go down

 

The night is now

Half-gone, youth

Goes; I am

In bed alone

 

–Sappho

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Here is some mood music: [While My Guitar Gently Weeps by Regina Spektor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zagM1Memfw&list=PLuWoENCX66finG3UlMxj-Lf33I1GxSmwb&index=3) I'm planning to put a poem and a piece of music for every fic I write for this event! It's fun, I'm having fun. 
> 
> This was written for the [Once Upon A Paladin](https://onceuponapaladin.tumblr.com/) event over on Tumblr. I ammmmm posting this a bit early but I'm planning another double update for another fic tomorrow and I didn't want to spam anyone. I'm hoping to have something done for each day of this week, but I'm not sure how well that's going to go, ha ha. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Go ahead and yell at me over on [Tumblr!!](https://reaadmydumbfanfiction.tumblr.com/)


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